


In the Face of Justice

by esthete



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bruce Wayne is a vampire, Canonical Character Death, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mentions of Batcat, Mentions of Justice League Dark, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of past Clois, Mutual Pining, Pre-New 52, Requited Love, SuperBat, and he handles it incredibly poorly, dick jason cass and tim are ALL bruce's adopted children fight me, superbat reverse bang 2018, they mention Jason's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esthete/pseuds/esthete
Summary: Batman shrinks away from a shocked Superman whom has just discovered Batman's fanged problem.“A vampire.” Clark half-laughed, stunned. “You’re telling me Batman turned into a vampire?”"Believe me, I’m well aware of the irony."





	1. The Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my entry for the 2018 Super Bat Reverse Bang! The SBRB community has been so fun these last few months. Special shout out to [Mitzvah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzvahmelting/pseuds/mitzvahmelting), who did some beta-ing, the writer's room for their support, and of course the talented [VaticanSaint](http://vaticansaint.tumblr.com/) [/UndeservingHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/221B%20Bitch) for both the beautiful art and for giving me an excuse to write that sweet, sweet vampire Bruce AU. This was an absolute joy to write!
> 
> This is a fairly generic comic verse closer to pre-52 continuity, set after Tim is Robin but before Under the Red Hood and Damian's introduction, but no comic knowledge is really needed.
> 
>  
> 
> [Art Masterpost Here](http://hellamathcat.tumblr.com/post/173952341270/superbat-reverse-bang-2018-title-in-the-face-of)

It was two thirty-eight in the morning when Clark Kent woke to his JLA com buzzing on his nightstand. A frazzled Dick Grayson was already halfway through a sentence.

“-ou seen B? Heard from him?”

“Uh,” Clark mumbled, taking a second to process the question, “no, not since last week.”

“Shit.”

The anxiety in Dick’s voice was enough to snap him awake. This is what he got for trying to sleep at night like a regular person. “What’s going on?”

“He’s missing been missing for almost two days. Nobody can find him.”

“Alright, calm down. That’s not all that unusual for him. Are you sure he isn’t just caught up in a case somewhere?”

“I don’t think so- he’s been acting weird lately. Robin thinks something is really wrong.”

Even though Bruce liked to brag about his kids he didn’t tend to exaggerate, and according to him his youngest was sharp as a tack with intuition that exceeded even his own. If Tim thought something was wrong, it probably was.

“Okay. What can I do? Have you asked around?”

“No one operating out of the Gotham area has seen him. I was hoping that he was with you. Maybe I’m overreacting but Robin is worried which means I’m worried, and just, do you have the time to come over here? I’m kinda starting to freak out.”

“Give me three minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Clark was in Gotham in two and a half.

Chances were that Bruce was fine and just caught up in a case and would reappear any minute oblivious to the worry he’d caused. Even so Clark couldn’t afford to brush this off, considering the things Bruce involved himself with. At the very least, he didn’t want to leave Dick and the rest of the Family worrying.

 

Dick was pacing on a rooftop when Clark found him, already talking the second he was in listening range in one of the many habits he’d picked up from his adoptive father.

“No one has seen him since the night before last. Not even Babs can find him and I have Tim and Cass combing the city, but this is Bruce we’re talking about. If Batman doesn’t want to be found in Gotham it doesn’t matter how hard we look, we’ll never find him. I just need to know if he’s trapped or hiding, and if he’s hiding then _why_. Because heaven forbid he actually talk to us, so I don’t know what to do but look, even though we checked the usual places and-”

“Okay Dick, slow down. Tell me what happened before he went missing.”

Dick gestured wildly. “I don’t know! He went overseas last week chasing something, I’m not even sure what. And he was late getting back which isn’t that unusual, but ever since he’s been weird. Cass said that his body language was different but she doesn’t know why. None of us have seen him more than a moment or two and never out of costume. We can’t even find any activity in town that would warrant him going AWOL. And right before he disappeared, Tim said that he freaked out on some nobody mugger who didn’t even have a gun and stabbed him. It’s not like him. I don’t know, do you think I’m overreacting?”

He squeezed Dick’s shoulder. “No, I don’t. You’ve always had good instincts. I think you’re right to trust them.”

Nightwing sighed, tapping his fingers nervously on his eskrima sticks. “I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m not then who knows what could have happened. He could be mind-controlled for all we know. Can you please just find him and make sure he’s okay? I hate to put you out but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. This is Bruce we’re talking about. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”

“Thanks Clark. You’re probably the only one who can find him now. And if Bruce is doing something crazy, which he probably is, try to talk some sense into him. He listens to you.”

“If you say so.”

 

Despite Dick’s worries, Clark stayed optimistic. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had disappeared. After all the gut-wrenching times Bruce had gone missing during a fight and Clark was sure he had died for real, the uncertainty of the situation was comforting.

However serious the situation ended up being, Clark never shied away from a chance to help Bruce. Because believe it or not it wasn’t often he got to. Batman had made a career of saving people and he was damn good at it. The problem was Bruce also had this idea that the only person in the universe that didn’t need saving was himself.  Helping him was like pulling teeth, especially if that help was coming from anyone on the Justice League, even Clark. It wasn’t fair- the number of times Bruce had saved Superman from kryptonite was frankly a little embarrassing. But whenever Clark had the opportunity to pay back any of that debt it was treated it as a personal insult.

That lack of trust stung a little. It seemed no matter how close they grew, what they went through together, or how much Clark ached to ease the burden on those shoulders, Bruce still refused to accept help without a fight.

For that reason alone Clark was relieved that Dick had come to him. Not that Bruce made it any easier for Dick to help him, because he didn’t, but he also couldn’t really deny his kids comfort when they were afraid. Being sent by his son as the best excuse he could ask for to dodge the obstacle that was Bruce’s ego.

Maybe one day he could stand by his side without so much drama and suspicion, or heaven forbid ask for help. Clark dreamed of the day he could shower Bruce with all the kindness and love he denied himself without a fight. But before that could happen he needed to come out and confess to Bruce how much he meant to him, and… Clark had been struggling to make that leap. For three years.

He was a darn coward, is what he was. Why did he keep putting it off? All there was to lose was his relationship with his best friend, his partner, the unity of the JLA, his dignity, and his heart.

Yeah. No big deal.

 

Dick was right about one thing: finding Batman in Gotham would be a fool’s errand for most people. Luckily Clark wasn’t most people and he didn’t have to look, only listen. Finding a quiet bit of air above the city he closed his eyes, listening for that familiar heartbeat.

He didn’t hear it. Gritting his teeth through the stab of panic, Clark forced himself to concentrate and widen his range. Five miles outside of city limits he was still coming up empty. Dick had been sure he was still in Gotham. Could he just be missing him? No, he knew Bruce’s heartbeat as well as his own- his breathing, his voice, even the grind of the plate in his knee and the pins in his shoulder.

This couldn’t mean… he wasn’t… no. Clark shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. Something must be blocking his senses, which probably meant that it was Bruce himself who didn’t want to be found. Ignoring how much that stung, he made himself think. If Bruce was hiding from him, he was using lead. Finding that much lead was actually fairly easy- just use x-ray vision and look for the dark spots. Clark had to work the city in strips, moving up and down, so it was more than an hour later before he finally spotted it.

A rectangle of lead was embedded in a rocky cliff side on the coastline just outside of town. Inside was perfectly silent, likely hermetically sealed. No one besides Bruce or Lex Luthor would build something like this, and considering Bruce would never let Luthor this close to Gotham, it was safe to bet on the former.

Anyone else would have missed it camouflaged into the sheer cliff side. Tucked behind a jut of natural rock was a small metal door textured to blend in with the stone. An unassuming pane of black glass was set into the wall- definitely Bruce’s design, the lack of identifying marks being his signature on things like this. Clark put his hand on the glass. It illuminated “A-01” and then “administrative access granted”. The doors slid open almost silently.

“Nightwing,” he said, turning on the com in his ear, “you can stop looking. I found him.”

“Oh, thank god. Where? Is he okay?”

Clark didn’t know yet. Overhead lights flickered on as he floated inside and the door shut behind him. While there weren’t any blood splatters or marks indicative of a fight, the place was a mess. Chairs and tables on their sides, papers strewn on the floor, and even a motorcycle was tipped over in the corner. But the freshness of the air and lack of dust meant it was a new mess. Bruce wasn’t in sight but there was another heavy metal door in the back wall.

“He’s in one of his bunkers. I’ll handle this, alright? Everything will be fine.” Clark tried to keep his tone light but lying to Dick was almost as hard as lying to Bruce.

“Are you sure? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? What’s going on?”

“I’m still figuring that out.” He said honestly. “Whatever it is I’ll take care of it. Trust me. B would want you to focus on looking after the city while he’s… busy.”

There was a beat of silence. “Okay. Fine. Just let me know if you need backup. He can be a real jerk when he’s in trouble. You have my permission to knock some sense into him if he needs it.”

“Knowing him he probably will. I’ll bring him back, I promise.”

“You’d better.”

He muted his com. Despite what he’d said to Dick he had a bad feeling about this. Clark’s keen eye fell on the bunker again. The back room had to be both lead lined and hermetically sealed because he wasn’t getting anything from it. Nothing indicated that anyone besides Bruce had been in here recently, so what had caused him to make such a mess? When he spotted the belt tossed haphazardly over a chair confusion turned to fear.

Bruce would never willingly part with his utility belt if he was in trouble. Period. Something was going on here, something big- and there was only one way to find out what.

Clark put his hand on the second scanner in the back of the bunker.

“A-01”, it said in a female voice, then “Administrative access revoked.”

“Revoked? What do you mean revoked? Why can’t I open it?”

“System is in lockdown.”

That meant the door couldn’t be opened from the outside or the inside. “Who put it in lockdown?”

“Designation A-02.”

“Why would B- you know what, I’m done with this.”

Clark dug his fingertips into the seam of the door and pulled. The thing had to be four inches thick but it buckled in seconds. When the gap was an inch or two wide he heard a familiar voice and froze.

“Get the _fuck_ out of here, Clark!”

Ignoring the pure venom in the voice, he focused on his friend’s racing heart. Something was very wrong. He had been right to come after all. “Bruce, what is going on? Everyone’s worried about-”

“I said get OUT!” Something shot through the narrow gap. If he had been anyone else Clark’s head would have been sliced open. As it was a shard of tile bounced off his forehead and clattered to the ground.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. Why are you holed up in here?”

“None of your damn business.” Years of practice told him that Bruce’s clipped monotone was tight with pain.

“You better believe it’s my business! Dick sent me to check on you after you vanished for two whole days. Besides, I’m your friend and you’re freaking me out.”

“If you were my _friend_ then you would leave. Right now, Kal.”

Usually when Bruce used his Kryptonian name it was warm, almost affectionate. This was not one of those times. A cold fear bloomed in his chest.

“Bruce I’m not-”

“I’m not asking! Get out of here _now_!”

But Clark could hear the racing, irregular heartbeat, the tremors racking his body, the hoarseness of his voice. Sometimes when dealing with a man like Bruce Wayne the best course of action was to brace yourself and completely ignore him.

“Bruce,” Clark said as gently as he could, “I get that you want me to leave, but you’re really worrying me. I’m coming in.”

Not giving him a chance to argue, Clark tore off the rest of the door like wet cardboard. The scene wasn’t pretty. This room was even more trashed than the last one. At some point it had been some sort of bunk area or storage room, but the bed was flipped over and the bedding in tatters. Shelves and tables were in pieces and there were craters in the linoleum floor. Curled in the corner with his hands over his head was Batman.

“Bruce!” Clark blurted, flying over without thinking. This was worse than he thought.

“Stay back!”

He stopped still.

“You can’t be here right now.” Bruce was sounding more desperate than angry. “Leave.”

“Not until you tell me what the heck is going on!” Clark didn’t mean to snap but this was starting to really freak him out. He’d never seen Bruce like this before. The hiding and the refusal to explain himself were pretty common, actually, but everything about his body language screamed “fear” and Clark was painfully aware of how few things truly scared him. Dick would have mentioned if someone in the family was hurt- what else could have caused this kind of reaction?

No, Bruce was more than just afraid, the tremors racking his body and the strain in his breaths were closer to a sickness. Was it a drug? Fear toxin? That would explain it. A drug, at least, he knew how to handle.

“Bruce, I need you to take some deep breaths,” Clark said steadily, floating slowly towards him, “I think you might have been drugged.”

“That’s not- this isn’t a toxin. You don’t understand.”

“If it’s not a drug then what’s the harm in letting me look you over?” Toxin victims couldn’t really think logically but if Bruce fought him it would only make things worse. Oh god, had he been suffering like this for two whole days?

“Because of the damn smell, you idiot! I can’t do this, get away from me!”

“You’re not making any sense, just let-” Bruce swung a fist at him, Clark only barely dodging and grabbing his arm to keep him from hurting himself. “Just calm down, I’m trying to help you!”

Covering his mouth and nose with one hand Bruce yanked desperately against the iron grip on his bicep. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, let go of me!”

It happened fast even to his eyes. In a quick a twisting move Bruce pulled him off balance. Clark tried to grab his shoulder and missed, pulling off the cowl by the ear. For the first time since entering the bunker Clark saw his face. They both froze. Grimacing, Bruce looked away, but the damage had been done.

He was clearly exhausted, skin ashen with dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes, but that wasn’t what knocked the breath out of Clark’s lungs.

Bruce’s eyes were no longer their beautiful silvery blue. Instead his irises were dyed a striking, vivid scarlet. More than that, his canines had been replaced with long white _fangs_.

“What… happened to you?” He spluttered, still staring in open-mouthed shock. At just a glance Clark could tell this was no costume, these new features were _real._

Wrenching his arm out of Clark’s numb grip Bruce stood but only made it a few steps before slumping against the wall. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked without turning around, “I’ve become a monster.”

“A monster?” He hovered behind Bruce, ready to catch him if he fell but reluctant to touch him again without asking. “What are you talking about? Just tell me what happened to you, please!”

Bruce took a breath. “I was working overseas with Zatanna and Constantine. We were investigating a group of supernatural beings. I misjudged my opponents. I was… injured. Infected. Changed into something else.”

“You don’t mean…” That would be just, there was no way that… but it seemed pretty clear.

“A vampire.” Clark half-laughed, stunned. “You’re telling me Batman turned into a vampire?” Of all the things- it would be almost funny if it weren’t for Bruce’s palpable misery. He already felt bad for his reaction. Vampires were rare enough that Clark had never seen one before, which meant he knew hardly anything about them. 

“What was your first clue?” Bruce snapped. “Spare me the witty commentary. _Believe_ me, I’m well aware of the irony. The only thing you need to know is I’m dangerous now. I can’t be trusted.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not dangerous,” he said without thinking.

“I _am,_ Kal! Why the hell did you think I locked myself in here? I’m a danger to everyone around me. And I can’t- this is the only thing I could do to keep them safe, don’t you see that?”

And then it clicked. “Wait a… are you talking about blood?”

Bruce hunched his shoulders and said nothing, which was the clearest answer he could give.

“Holy moly. Okay. You’re a vampire.” Clark pushed his hands through his hair because wow this was kind of a lot to take in at once. “A real-life vampire with fangs who needs blood to survive.”

“I don’t _need_ blood,” he snarled.

“You don’t? Then what’s making you so sick? Your vitals read like you’re going into shock.”

“Abstaining has… side effects. It’s unimportant.” From his tone one would think he was referring to nausea or dry mouth, not a full-body shut down. Any normal person would be on their way to the hospital with that kind of heartrate and body temperature.

“By which you mean you do need it.” For such a brilliant man Bruce could be infuriatingly stupid. Why did he have to be so reckless when it came to his own wellbeing? “Alright, we can handle this. What about animal blood?”

“I tried that and it doesn’t work. It makes it worse, just makes me… it’s different. It made me sick.”

Which was Bruce-speak for ‘it almost killed me’. “Okay. Got it. Human blood. We can-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“At least think about it, Bruce! If you need blood then, you know, it’s not like we haven’t seen weirder things in our lives.” Clark tried to sound reassuring but it was hard when internally he was still kind of freaking out. Bruce was a vampire. _Bruce_ was a _vampire_ who drank _blood_ and had _fangs_ and that was only the symptoms he knew about. Was he even technically human anymore?

“For the last time, I’m not drinking human blood!” Bruce rounded on him suddenly, jaw clenched and scarlet eyes blazing. It was all Clark could do not to flinch away- he looked _different_ , sharper and intense, almost feral. The contrast was eerie, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

Bruce continued, voice tightly controlled. “You don’t understand. I lost control out there. There was a man, he just had a bloody nose. The blood, it just… I stabbed him when he was on the ground. Nearly cut his jugular. And I… from the blade I wanted to… I could have killed him if Robin hadn’t found me when he did.” Bruce grit his teeth and looked away. Clark couldn’t stop staring at the fangs. “Clark, I almost hurt him. Tim. For a moment I felt myself tense up, analyze him like he was an opponent I needed to take down. I can’t _do_ that.”

“But you didn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter if I did it or not. I stabbed an unarmed man and was a second from doing the same to Tim. He’s my _son_ and I- I almost…” Bruce’s breath hitched. “I can’t let that happen. Ever. Do you understand? I won’t become something that would hurt an innocent person. No matter the cost, refuse to put anyone else in danger. I _can’t_.”

“Bruce…” Darn it. This fatalist black-and-white thinking was so like him. There’s always another way. Clark had to believe there was another way. “Locking yourself away isn’t the best way to solve this. Why didn’t you talk to us? You know anyone in the JLA would help you if you just asked, not to mention your team. Let me call-”

“No. I couldn’t afford to drag anyone into this. You have no idea what it’s like. The _blood_ ,” he spat it like a curse, “makes me insane. I can’t be near people anymore. At least in here I can keep everyone safe from myself.”

“And you never thought that maybe _not_ having blood is what made you crazy?” Given, Clark was mostly working off of what books and movies said about vampires, but that seemed a safe guess as to what was going on here.

“I’m not a rabid fucking dog, Clark. It’s just- an addiction. A dependency. I can handle withdrawal.”

“What was your plan if you can’t? What if this is something you really need?”

“I _can’t_ need this! I can’t spend the rest of my life dependent on _human blood_ , what kind of monster-” Bruce cut himself off, took a breath, and leveled him a ruthlessly flat stare. “I refuse to live like that. Either I beat it, or I’m not leaving this bunker.”

A chill shot through Clark’s veins when he realized what he was saying. “You… that’s bullshit.” His voice shook. Bruce recoiled the slightest bit. “ _Bullshit._ You’re going to give up without even trying?”

“You think I’m not trying? Do you have any idea what it’s like just to be near you? I left the belt out there for a reason, it’s all I can do not to attack you!”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Not everyone is you, Kal. Most people don’t stand a chance. Just the sound of their heartbeats and the damn smell is…” He took a short, shaking breath with his eyes closed, in and out. “And if I slip up just _once_ , I don’t… know if I could stop from killing them. That’s not something I will allow. Period.”

Bruce was afraid, he realized with a start- more afraid than Clark had ever seen him. Not even in the most hopeless Justice League fights could shake Batman from his calm, reliable demeanor. Now he was scared and not thinking straight. The only option was to try and talk him down. “Don’t think like that. The Batman I know has come out on top in situations worse than this.”

“The Batman you knew is gone. They spent years calling me a vampire and a demon. Now it’s true. How could I dare show my face now?”

Clark crossed his arms. “Gotham still needs you, anyone can see that.”

“It doesn’t need me like this.”

“And what about the rest of us? The League? Your team? Dammit Bruce, what about your kids?”

At that Bruce tensed, pain flashing more intensely over his features. Clark pressed his advantage desperately. “You think your family doesn’t need you? You think we- they wouldn’t help you if you just asked?”

“I… I couldn’t. They don’t deserve me like this.”

“You know what they really don’t deserve? Is for their dad to disappear without a word of explanation! Do you have any idea how much you’re scaring those poor kids?” It was almost a low blow to use the kids like this. But Dick, Cass, Tim, and even Barbara had been the only things keeping Bruce from a downward spiral these last few years after Jason’s death.

“And what would I say to them, exactly? That I’m unstable? Dangerous? The only thing I can do to protect my family anymore is to keep them far away from me.”

“Bruce…”

“No. Telling them the truth would just get them involved and I won’t put them in that kind of danger over my problems. There’s nothing they can do that I can’t do for myself. And if you’re implying that I would take my own _children’s blood-_ ”

“I didn’t _say_ that. I’m saying that there’s people who care about you. I’m saying maybe look for a solution that doesn’t involve locking yourself away until you starve to death!”

There was a long pause. Bruce had his back half to him, keeping his distance like being close to him physically hurt. It probably did.

“This… thing, you need to understand that it isn’t natural. Vampires aren’t a natural born species like some supernatural beings. It’s not even a disease. It’s a man-made magic. An old, powerful curse that infects like a parasite and feeds off of the magical essence of blood to survive. Zatanna knew there was nothing to be done from the start, but she looked anyway because I just couldn’t accept that.”

Bruce took a breath dangerously close to a sob, carding his gloves through his hair and making it spike up wildly.

“I’m an arrogant bastard, you know. Even though no one’s ever beat this thing, not in hundreds of years, I still thought I could find a cure because I’m _me_. I even made Zatanna promise not to tell anyone what happened because I thought I could handle it. But I was deteriorating faster by the day. No one had any answers, not even Constantine or Jason Blood. Eventually I just couldn’t stay out there looking anymore. It got too- I had to come home where I have resources and contingency plans. Now, even if there is a cure somewhere, I’m out of time. There’s nothing more anyone can do.”

If there’s one thing Clark never thought he would see, it’s Batman admitting defeat. It was terrifying. “You don’t know that! Listen Bruce, just let me take you home. Explain to everyone what’s going on and maybe we can-”

“No!” The room practically shook with the force of Bruce slamming a fist into the wall. “Are you even listening to me? I can’t go home like _this._ It was all I could do just to lock myself in here before I hurt someone. I would rather die than put them in that kind of danger.”

“You wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Clark pleaded. “I wouldn’t let you. Please, let me get you help.”

“Dammit Kal, don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter! There is no help! There is no cure! I’m going to be a fucking monster for the rest of my life and there’s _nothing_ I can do about it!”

No one else seemed to notice it, but Bruce wasn’t a loud man. He almost never raised his voice outside of necessity. The last time Clark heard him scream like this was right after Jason died, he realized with a shiver. Back then he had barely been able to stop Bruce from killing the Joker. Just like then he wasn’t thinking clearly. More so, maybe. Not mind control, per se, but this thing was clearly affecting Bruce badly. As much as seeing him like this again hurt, the last thing Clark was about to do was leave. His friend needed him.

“You know, maybe there _isn’t_ a cure.” Clark took a breath, forcing his voice to lower. “Maybe managing it is the best we can do is to live with this thing. That’s life sometimes! You can’t control what happens to you.”

Bruce kicked some twisted metal wreckage. “ _I_ should be able to! This is _my_ body, Clark. _My_ mind. _Me_. All of the work I did gaining mastery over myself and now when I need it, it’s useless. I’ve lost everything. I’m not even human anymore.”

“Well, good to know that not being human is a reason to give up!” Clark shot back acidly. That was an old wound for him. Bruce should know better than to bring it up.

“It’s different for you and you know it. You were born Kryptonian. That’s what you’re supposed to be. I’m not supposed to be this blood-thirsty _thing_. Don’t act like you understand.”

“Oh, that is rich. You think I don’t know exactly how you feel, you self-centered jerk? If you’d bothered to pull your head out of your ass for a single minute, you’d realize that I’m one of the only people on the planet who gets it. You think I didn’t spend most of my life terrified of hurting someone? Thinking that isolating myself was the only way to keep everyone safe? Well, I tried it and it was awful! If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that denying who and what you are only makes things worse. You have to accept it.”

“I can’t!”

For a moment Bruce looked like he was going to keep yelling but went silent, shoulders drooping like the fight was draining out of him.  He wouldn’t meet Clark’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t accept this. Being non-human is fine for you because you’re _you_. You’re natural and kind and good. I’m not. You would never hurt anyone on purpose but I _want_ to, Kal. These last few days all I can think about when anyone’s near me is the quickest way to cut their throat. I can’t even be in the same room as you without…” Bruce stepped closer, reaching towards him before freezing. He snatched his hand back like it burned.

“I can’t do this. I was a fool to ever think I could.”

For Bruce that was a big admonition. Clark had said that he understood, and in a lot of ways he did, but Bruce didn’t exactly react to problems in the standard ways. Not that most people would believe it but the big bad Bat felt more potently than almost anyone. This curse, or whatever it was, threatened his very personhood.

Bruce would tear himself apart over this and Clark wasn’t sure he could stop him.

“Look, B. I know this is hard. All I’m asking is to let me try to help you. Yeah, there might not be a cure in the way that you want, but that doesn’t mean I’ll watch you starve to death over this. You can’t ask me to do that. Tell me what I can do to help so together we can find a way to deal with this.”

Bruce huffed. “And what do you suggest we do? Steal blood from a hospital from people who actually need it, where there’s already shortages? Or should I roam the street and rip the throat out of the first person I come across?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not.” Even Clark was taken aback by the bluntness. “And if you think for a second that I’m willing to take that chance, then you should get out right now.”

“Dammit Bruce, give me something to work with here! Use that big brain of yours. There has to be something we can do.”

“Unless you have a way to obtain human blood without stealing or hurting anyone, there isn’t.”

“What if…” Clark trailed off. What _could_ he do? Unless- “Wait a second, Bruce. Just use my blood.”

Taking a step back, Bruce blanched. “Are you insane? No. Absolutely not.”

Honestly, he should’ve thought of this sooner. “Why not? Will Kryptonian blood work?”

“Technically, but-

 “Will it turn me into a vampire too?”

“No, just getting bitten won’t infect you. That’s not how it works.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“Do you have to ask? Jesus Clark, I can’t do that to you.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll die. You have to see that this is the obvious solution here. Let me do this for you,” he pleaded. He would throw himself on a kryptonite spear for Bruce Wayne. If all it took to save him was some pain and blood, Clark would count his blessings.

 “Why? Why would you?” It’s more a demand than a question. Metal creaked; Bruce was holding onto some metal shelving so tightly it was bending. Looking closer more than just his hands were shaking now, his whole body was trembling.

“Because I care about you, you goddamn idiot! I’m allowed to help you when you need it. And you need help whether or not you want to admit it.”

“But-”

“What’s your other plan, huh? Because I refuse to let you die over this.”

“You don’t know if it will kill me.”

“Your vitals say otherwise. And I know you, you’ve dug up every scrap of information on vampires there is. You know exactly what happens when they go without blood for too long.”

“There’s no way of knowing if the sources-”

“Dammit Bruce, tell me what you found. Tell me how long it takes.”

A sigh. “The longest I could find was nine days.”

“How long has it been for you?”

“Only seven and a half.”

Clark scoffed, “Oh, only seven and a half, he says. And your plan was to sit around and hope you don’t die like the others?”

“I was out of options. What other choice did I have?”

“A lot of choices! The one I’m giving you right now, for starters.”

“This won’t work in the long-term. I can’t just _live_ off of you.”

“It would only be until you can come up with a more permanent solution. And I know you can because you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. All you need is a clear head and more time. Let me give that to you.”

But Bruce was shaking his head. “No Clark, you don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Just the slightest bit, Bruce was beginning to falter. “I can’t ask you to… I can’t… I don’t know if I could even break the skin.” But Bruce’s breath coming in short gasps like the air itself hurt him. His scarlet eyes were fixed intently on him. Since he arrived Bruce had seemed tormented, now he was only barely keeping himself in check. Honestly it was frightening to see… and a little exhilarating.

“If this is magical there’s a good chance you can. I’ll get the kryptonite from your belt in the other room if I have to, I know you have some.”

Silence.

“Look, I’m not making you do anything. If you don’t want to do it with me, then help me find another way to handle this.”

“That’s not-” a breath that was almost a laugh, “It’s not that. You have no idea how much I want to. I just can’t… I don’t… you don’t want to see me like this. What I am, what this is? It’s wrong. It’s unnatural and disgusting. This isn’t the kind of thing you should have to handle. This is my turf and my responsibility, not yours.”

And that was so like him, to put others before himself even in the most desperate situations.  Clark wasn’t sure if he wanted to give him a hug or punch him in the face. He was leaning towards the latter. Even now, with his body and mind practically breaking down, Bruce was still trying to protect him.

Ever since they met there had been certain things that Bruce decided Clark wasn’t to be a part of. At first it was because he “couldn’t handle what goes on at street level”. When Clark finally gained some of his trust, it became things that “Superman shouldn’t concern himself with, not worth your time”, generally categorized as things Bruce decided were too dark or twisted for anyone but himself to fight.

It was infuriating. Clark wasn’t a civilian or one of the caped kids to shield from a gruesome crime. Still Bruce insisted on acting like getting involved too closely with Gotham would taint him or something, like he was some pure innocent. Apparently becoming a vampire is something Bruce had decided wasn’t Superman’s problem.

As much as Clark wanted to tear into Bruce for that, and he certainly would later, the last thing he needed was for this to devolve into a real fight. He needed to stay focused.

“Bruce, listen to me. Sometimes weird, messed up stuff happens in this line of work. I’m used to it. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. That is, I still respect you and value our friendship. You’re not evil or disgusting or whatever else you’re calling yourself right now. You’re still the man I’ve known and trusted for years.” The man he had loved for years. “Want to know what I really think? I think you’re incredible. You protect other people no matter the cost without a second’s hesitation. I think there isn’t a person on this planet who could have handled this alone as long as you have.”

Bruce was stock-still, watching him. At least he wasn’t arguing.

“I also think,” Clark continued, “you’re stubborn as a mule and terrible at asking for help. You convinced yourself that you have to do this alone and you don’t, B. We choose to go up against the ugliest parts of this world so others don’t have to, and sometimes ugly things happen to us because of it. This isn’t your fault. I won’t give up hope for you. Please don’t give up on yourself, either.”

There was a small huff that might have been laughter. “Leave it to you to turn this into a motivational speech about hope.”

“I am a writer, you know.”

For a few moments it was quiet, just their breathing. Bruce’s was still fast and a bit labored, his heart racing.

“Are you sure?”

Without giving himself time to think Clark pulled up his sleeve and held his arm out. “Yes, darn it, will you just-”

That, apparently, was enough to make Bruce snap. He surged forward, grabbed his wrist and twisted it into some kind of hold. It wasn’t painful but it caught Clark by surprise- Bruce had never been this strong. Before he could say anything, long white fangs sunk into his vein.

The first surprise was that Bruce was actually able to break the skin. Usually Clark was just as vulnerable to magic as everyone else but it wasn’t a guaranteed thing. His small flinch was just from shock, though, because he quickly realized that the bite didn’t actually hurt.

Honestly, Clark had assumed it would. A bit of pain just seemed such a small price to pay given the circumstances that he hadn’t hesitated. But there was none. Did the magic that let the fangs pierce his skin also numb it? Either way his wrist just felt strangely warm- it was actually rather pleasant. Whether the feeling was from the magic or just the fact that Bruce’s mouth was on his skin, Clark didn’t know.

_Don’t make it weird,_ he scolded himself. _It’s just your wrist. He’s doing it because he has to. It’s not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter._

While the magic had let him bleed, it didn’t stop Clark from healing. After just a moment Bruce hummed angrily and pulled away. There were only two small bruises on his otherwise unmarked skin.

“Well, uh,” Clark stammered, “okay, that wasn’t so-”

Bruce’s sharp eyes snapped up. The red was still foreign and startling, making him look in that instant like an entirely different man. Before Bruce’s icy glare always seemed to pierce right through him; calculating, reserved, and at times as cold as Clark’s arctic fortress. Now there was… passion might be the right word. Bruce had never looked at him like that before, with such raw desire. He wasn’t done.

Despite himself, Clark went a little weak in the knees. When Bruce surged forward, crowding him against the wall, he didn’t resist. With one hand he pinned his shoulder while the other yanked Clark’s hair back to expose his neck. Closing his eyes, he held his breath for another bite that didn’t come. Bruce was nearly ripping his hair out, forehead against his collar bone and barely breathing.

“Shit,” Bruce gasped, voice somewhere between panic and pain, “Clark, I-I can’t stop… I need, fuck… please…”

Any chance Clark had of keeping his thoughts clean went out the window.

He barely had the presence of mind to choke out “It’s okay-” before Bruce’s mouth was on him again. Just like before there was barely a sting until he was awash with the feeling like a hot shower or the heat of the sun.

A contented sigh dangerously close to a moan fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Thankfully Bruce seemed too preoccupied to notice, or if he did he had the decency not to comment. Usually Clark was able to push down his more workplace inappropriate thoughts, but between the closeness and the biting it was hard not to slip.

Clark couldn’t help it. It was just so… so. The closeness. The hand tangled his hair. Bruce’s impossibly soft lips. The warm drag of his tongue. The slight suction that made his heart race. Clark barely had the presence of mind to not crush him; he wasn’t sure how or when he had clenched the black cape in his hands, but he wasn’t about to let go.

It was selfish and unfair of him to enjoy this and he knew it. Bruce hadn’t asked for any of this to happen. It was obvious that the compulsion for blood was too strong for even him to resist- and for Bruce, who had once quit venom cold-turkey, that was saying something. Even though Clark had fantasized about being this close about a million times Bruce’s consent was to blood and nothing more. This wasn’t something he wanted to do. He wasn’t pressed up against him because he wanted to be. His lips weren’t on his skin because he wanted them to be. And if Bruce let out a small pleasured gasp or two, it was for Clark’s blood, not _him_ … no matter how much they made his stomach do backflips.

As before the bite healed in moments, only this time Bruce didn’t hesitate before sinking his teeth in again, and _again,_ not giving him any time to recover. Oh Rao, if this went on much longer Clark’s heart was going to burst right out of his chest.

Bruce paused, warm breath prickling his skin like electricity, and breathed a muted curse. When it came the last bite was slower, so gentle that he didn’t even realize it was happening at first. Time had slowed to a syrupy haze when his lips finally pulled away, leaving Clark light-headed and giddy. The hands in his hair and on his shoulder unclenched as Bruce’s whole body finally began to relax. 

With a rush of relief he felt Bruce’s condition improve by the second. His breathing evened out, heartrate lowered, and even his skin warmed. The gloved hand slid from his hair to the back of his neck. To his delight Bruce didn’t pull back immediately, just slumped bonelessly against him. Afraid to break the moment Clark held still, even as Bruce tipped his head back and breathed a long, contented sigh. His eyes were half unfocused and parted lips painted a vivid scarlet.

Clark wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life.

But he couldn’t. Certainly not now, possibly not ever.

That reality was one Clark had been forced to accept years ago. Bruce wasn’t an easy man to get close to in any capacity, so attempts at courtship were difficult to say the least. Honestly if Clark could just ignore these feelings forever, he would. But they had been annoyingly consistent since he and Lois had broken up three years ago, and if he was being honest with himself, probably before then.

Sometimes, especially times like these when Bruce was so tantalizingly close, the effort it took to hold back his feelings was gargantuan. The fact that he’d come this far without endangering their friendship was incredible. Fortunately, one thing Superman had was self-control. If he could bruise a bone instead of breaking it, catch a falling child at seventy miles an hour without hurting them, and hold Bruce gently even with his heart beating out of his chest, then he could resist sweeping him up and pouring his love into a kiss.

But it wasn’t as if Clark intended to bottle up his feelings forever. In fact, he had almost worked up the courage to say something years ago when Jason had suddenly died. Back then Bruce had needed him as a friend, not as something potentially messy and complicated. Clark held strong even when Bruce broke his own hand punching him, even when he screamed and raged and wept and isolated himself in his own pain and anger. There was little anyone could do for him. Even if by some miracle he was interested it was obvious that a sudden romantic confession was the last thing Bruce needed.

So Clark had waited, and despite some casual dating his feelings never waned. Two and a half years had come and gone since Jason’s passing. Tim, bless that boy, had managed to stabilize Bruce when no one else could. That led to him reconnected with Dick and even stepping up as a parent in Cassandra’s life. And as happy as he was for him, it also meant that Clark was quickly running out of excuses to put off confessing his feelings.

There was just too much at stake. Bruce was sensitive when it came to things like this. While he would never let personal feeling affect their work with the JLA, if things went poorly their friendship could fall apart. Clark could comfortably call Bruce his best friend, and hopefully the reverse was true. That relationship was too important to him to risk lightly.

Even if… even if Bruce flat out rejected him romantically, maybe putting himself out there would increase the trust between them. The current vampire situation was an extreme example of a long pattern of Bruce not trusting others enough to help him.

He wanted Bruce to come to him with problems, and let Clark do the same. He wanted his companionship. He wanted to sit at the breakfast table with his family and make him eat something besides his bitter green shakes. He wanted to see Bruce laugh without restraint, see a smile when they meet eyes. He wanted Bruce to hold him when he was sad and not pretend like he hated it. He wanted…

Oh, Rao. As Lois would say: he had it bad. He had it so bad.

“Are… you okay now?” Clark asked after what felt like minutes. Instantly Bruce went tense in his arms. He stared up at him in wide-eyed horror then flinched away a few steps.

“Shit.” He put a hand over his mouth like he was going to throw up.

“What’s wrong?” Was Kryptonian blood poisonous after all?

“Are you serious? I just- I can’t believe I…” Bruce caught sight of his palm, the black glove stained with blood from around his mouth and stared. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Bruce, it’s-”

“Don’t you fucking tell me it’s okay!” He snapped, scrubbing furiously at his mouth.

“I’m telling you it’s fine.”

“Look at your damn neck and tell me that.”

Clark brushed the bite marks with his fingertips. Blood had dripped down and stained the collar of his suit.  While his skin was still weirdly numb it was tender and sore. He winced without thinking and instantly regretted it at the flash of anguished guilt over Bruce’s face.

“Don’t freak out, it’s fine! I’m fine, everything’s fine, seriously.”

“Will you stop saying that?”

“It is! Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re lying! That’s what you do, Clark! You act like you have an obligation to save everyone even if you don’t want to. Even if helping them means hurting yourself though they don’t deserve it.”

“You know what Diana says. It’s not about deserving.”

“She was referring to humans, innocent people, not me. Even if I did fall into that category before, I certainly don’t now that I hurt you.”

“First, I’m not even going to start on how hypocritical that is, considering the people you’ve saved. Second, don’t go telling me why I do what I do. You deserve help just as much as anyone. I helped you because I wanted to help you, simple as that.” He smothered his irritation and pulled down his collar, speaking gently. “And you didn’t hurt me. See? It’s already healed. It’s a little sore is all.”

That gave Bruce pause. “What do you mean it didn’t hurt?”

“I mean I didn’t feel a thing. There’s something numbing on your teeth, magic or something, I don’t know. Was it supposed to hurt?”

He didn’t answer.

“Well if it was supposed to, it didn’t. It actually felt good, I mean, it was pleasant. Fine. Stop worrying about that already.”

Bruce gave him a searching look, skeptical. “Don’t try to tell me you’re honestly not bothered by this. I’d rather you not lie to spare my feelings.”

“What exactly do you think I have a problem with here? You not being human? Weird anatomy? I shoot lasers from my eyes and a rock from space can kill me. I’m in no position to judge.”

“My _point_ is that you- I know that this is…” Bruce scowled, turning to pace the room. His movements were noticeably more fluid than before. Thank God the blood had really worked. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind, else I would’ve stopped you. You’re under no obligation to stay any longer.”

“Oh, please. Dick would have my head if I left you like this.” Not that he would leave him right now anyway.

“Dick shouldn’t be worrying about me. It’s my job to look after him, not the other way around.”

“There’s no time to waste. Now that I’m functional again I need to keep looking. Constantine said there was someone in Tanzania that-” Bruce bent to pick up his cowl but lost his balance standing up. Clark was catching him by the hand before he made the conscious thought to move.

“Whoa there. You okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Just tired. I haven’t slept much since it happened. My body is crashing.” He sounded almost offended that his body dare have limits. Belatedly he seemed to notice Clark’s hand in his and pulled away.

“Jesus, Bruce, that was over a week ago. Looking for a cure can wait, you need to rest. I can have you home in-”

“No.” Bruce said, voice raw. “I can’t go home.”

“But you’re not, uh, hungry anymore, right? And like I said, I won’t let you lay a hand on anyone.” Honestly, Clark would feel much better with Alfred and the others to help keep Bruce from doing anything crazy.

“It’s not that. I can’t go back now.” He fiddled with the lenses of the cowl in his hands.

“Your family deserves to know what’s going on.”

“I can’t face them, okay? Not like this. Not until I’ve… done something. Made it better. I can’t go home without a plan. I don’t want to scare them. The last thing I need is them worrying about me.”

Clark let it go for the moment. This wasn’t a fight they needed to have right now. “Fine, don’t worry about the kids and Alfred for now. At least let me take you somewhere. I don’t care where it is as long as it’s safe.”

“You don’t have to stick around.”

“And yet I will.”

His dramatic eyebrow quirk made Clark smile. There’s the Bruce he knew and loved. Moving slowly enough for him to move if he wanted to, Clark went in for a hug. To his surprise Bruce not only accepted but leaned into it. Resting his forehead on his shoulder Bruce took a deep, shuddering breath. “Take me to the fortress. There’s no one I can hurt there.”

“Okay.”

When Bruce looked up he was tantalizingly close with an intense yet unreadable look in his newly-scarlet eyes.

Without thinking he brushed Bruce’s jaw with his hand, lightly like it might break at any sudden movement. Stubble pricked his palm. His skin was sallow and his eyes bloodshot and exhausted.

He was still the most beautiful person Clark had ever laid eyes on.

While Bruce had never had the most positive self-image, his guilt and anger had always seemed to focus on actions- things he wanted to do but couldn’t, or could do but wouldn’t, should have but didn’t. Now it was not what he did but what he was that tormented him. The overwhelming awareness of being different wasn’t something Clark would wish on anyone. Bruce genuinely thought of himself as some sort of perverse monster undeserving of kindness or love. It hurt. The idea of this caring, unselfish, brilliant man thinking of himself that way was almost more than Clark could bear. It was all he could do not to sweep Bruce off his feet and show him just how loved he was.

But Clark couldn’t think of himself right now. The only thing that mattered was what Bruce needed. This could be as bad a time to confess as two years ago… or it could be the perfect time. Until he knew for sure he wasn’t willing to risk it.

For now, he would be whatever Bruce needed. Even if it was only a friend.

Reluctantly Clark let him go. “We should move before the sun comes up.”

The trip north was short and silent, Bruce not objecting to being carried, and even falling asleep somewhere over Canada. When they arrived he gently he laid him on the bed. Only when Bruce’s heartbeat lowered into a deep sleep did Clark allow himself to stumble into an armchair and put his head in his hands.

This… sure was a situation. What did this mean for the future of Batman? The League? For Bruce’s life? There were so many questions. The only thing he knew for sure is that Bruce wouldn’t be going through this alone. It didn’t matter if Bruce returned his feelings or not, he loved him too much to leave him now.

“I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.” He said out loud to no one. “And Bruce Wayne is a vampire.”

He was in love with a vampire. Oh boy.


	2. The Bond

The only thing Bruce had to be thankful for was that his gauntlet computer could connect the Fortress’s dusty monitors with his private network in the Cave. Otherwise he couldn’t have thrown himself into work and would have already gone stir-crazy in the hour since he’d woken up in Clark’s bed.

Apologies wouldn’t change anything now, only action would.

He checked his sources again for new information though he had too few when it came to magically-inclined issues. Zatanna and Jason Blood had come up empty. Constantine was poking around in the less savory parts of the underworld for clues, though to be honest Bruce’s confidence in the man wasn’t overwhelming. In this case he had no choice but to rely on him to go places Bruce couldn’t. Even if he was… sated now, the ones who knew the most about vampires tended to make a living killing them.  

There was precious little he could do. Even so Bruce needed to figure this out, for his own sake as much as his team’s and the League’s. At the very least he needed to be able to tell them with absolute certainty whether this could be cured or not. They deserved that much.

A photocopy of an eighteenth century lithograph was on the screen and he had been reading the same paragraph over and over. It was about a monster that killed children and for all Bruce knew it was based on what he was now. The uncertainty was unbearable. Despite the fact that vampires had been around in fair numbers for hundreds of years, there was so much unrelated lore around them that it was nearly impossible to tell what was real and what was myth.

None of it was enough. He was getting desperate and he knew it, scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything he could get his hands on. The tome was just a scan from a library’s website. It wasn’t even behind a paywall. Bruce’s chest tightened. He needed more information, something accurate and conclusive, he needed-

He needed to breathe. Bruce had been on the edge of a panic attack for an hour, the more he looked and found nothing. Online research was getting him nowhere. Now that he was… somewhat more stabilized, Bruce really should be out there looking more. He could call the jet on autopilot and be out of the fortress in half an hour. Coward that he was he couldn’t make himself risk it yet.

The memory of the other night haunted him, when he almost killed that man on the street. The fear in Tim’s voice- his ownson had been afraid of him and with good reason. When he thought of that moment where his traitorous mind calculated weak points and tactics against _Tim_ his stomach churned.

How was he supposed to be a protector now, when he couldn’t even protect others from himself?

This was all his fault. He never should have gone out that night, just locked himself in the bunker the moment he got to Gotham. It was stupid and reckless to think he could just continue on with his life like nothing had happened. Everyone had known something was wrong even before Bruce ran away. Dick had straight out asked him what the problem was and Barbara was exasperated at his refusal to answer. Tim watched him warily in the short moments Bruce couldn’t avoid being near him. Cass knew the moment she saw him. Not specifically what happened, but she must have read easily that his body was fundamentally different now and avoided him. And of course Clark had to be ignored completely.

In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have come back to Gotham in the first place. All he had accomplished was scaring everyone. At the time all he had wanted was to go home to Gotham where he had resources and contingency plans. And, unfortunately, his family. How could he have put them in that kind of danger?

Maybe he should have simply gone off into the wilderness where there was no one around to hurt. No, that wouldn’t have been enough. The only thing Bruce trusted to hold him was something he’d built himself. That bunker was his last resort. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, Bruce hadn’t totally expected to ever leave it. There was no unlikely victory to be had, or last-minute cure.

At least he had the presence of mind to cancel Dick’s access to the bunker. The last thing he wanted was for his son to find him like that. Only two people could have opened that door, Diana and Clark.

Diana was a warrior, a soldier, in a way that the others were not. If Bruce was too far gone, if he truly lost his mind, he trusted her to do what needed to be done to stop him from hurting anyone else. Clark and Dick were too kind-hearted not to go easy on him, and if Bruce had any of his mind left, he would surely exploit that.

He should have kept Clark out too. The bunker was built to hide from all matter of beings, Kryptonian included, and he had Kryptonite defenses he could have activated. But he didn’t. That had been a moment of weakness.

Clark would call it hope. Bruce called it naïveté. Somewhere deep in Bruce’s weak and selfish parts, he had still wanted Superman to come to the rescue. Who was he, to drag Clark into this? There was nothing he could do. If this was to be Bruce’s end, at least he wouldn’t be remembered as a bloodthirsty monster who attacked innocents.

That thought had been his sole comfort since he came to the damn bunker.

Only deep in his most secret of hiding places, eight inches of titanium between himself and another living thing, did Bruce allow himself to break down. He had raged and screamed and smashed anything in sight. For days his body felt like it was tearing itself apart, and it didn’t help that he understood that was nearly literally what was happening.

It wasn’t fair. It was what he deserved. He wanted to die. He wanted to live. He didn’t want to die alone.

And when the bunker door was peeled away like aluminum foil it didn’t take a genius to guess who it was. In a way Bruce had been expecting him the whole time. All he wanted was to be left in peace to rot. Shame and relief warred, with anger coming out on top.

He had said cruel things that he should apologize for, but how? _Sorry I snapped, it’s just that being near you was unbearable in all the right ways. I destroyed any respect you may have ever had for me and I’m bitter about it even though it’s my fault. My life is falling apart and I took it out on you. Sorry I bit you. Sorry it was so good I thought my heart would stop. Sorry for loving you when neither of us deserve it._

The slight hum of a door snapped him out of it.

“You’d better not be skipping work to be here,” Bruce said without turning.

It was a mystery why he tried. Clark had never been able to sneak up on him even before he gained supernaturally sharp senses. Only now that he’d fed was he feeling the full effects of the curse. Intellectually Bruce knew that there were certain “advantages” to this new body but experiencing them was still… unnerving.

“Since when have you cared about skipping work? Besides, it’s six thirty in the evening. I was checking up but you slept straight through my day. Anyway, are you okay? How do you feel?”

“As well as can be expected,” he said without elaboration. Clark’s presence made him aware of the deep-seated, primal hunger that he knew was for blood but it was easily ignored. 

“Well, I called Dick and the League while you were asleep. Everyone knows you’re alive but out of action for now. I didn’t think you’d want me to tell anyone any specifics.”

“Thank you.”

“They’re worried though, especially your family. Do you want to go home?”

“No. Definitely not.” He wasn’t ready to face them yet.

“I told Dick you might need some time. You have a good team, they’ll handle the city and the company. Focus on yourself for a while.”

“So you’re doing research? You sure settled in quickly. I forgot I even had this stuff.”

“That’s what you get for letting me store things here.”

“Touché. Well, the coffee maker is still mine if nothing else, so I brought you a cup. Uh, that is…” Trailing off, Clark froze like a deer in headlights. Bruce shot him a look and a raised eyebrow. “That is, if you still, you know…”

Something close to a smile passed across his face. “I still need food, Clark. My body’s still human. Somewhat.” The last part he said lightly, even though mentioning it still made his stomach churn. Not human, just somewhat human. Did he still have the parts that mattered?

 “Okay. Sorry. I just don’t really know really what this whole vampire thing entails,” Clark said, handing him the mug. It had a Wonder Woman logo on it.

“Besides living off of the blood of innocents?” Bruce asked wryly and took a sip. Slightly burned and not one of his preferred blends, but it was hot. Come to think of it he hadn’t eaten in a day or two… not counting blood. Hunger for food and hunger for blood were still difficult to tell apart. Right now the smell of Clark was infinitely more attractive than any food.

According to Zatanna a vampire’s urges were worst at the beginning. Starving himself for a week hadn’t helped things. Now it seemed impossible to have gone that long.

Clark had been… intoxicating. He still was, always had been, but in that moment it had been overpowering. The steady beat of his heart, the powerfully rich yet decidedly inhuman smell of his blood- if it were anyone else, he might not have been able to stop himself from attacking the moment he entered the room. The thought of Clark seeing how low he’d fallen was the only thing holding him back, until he offered himself and the delicate control shattered. When Bruce finally did give in, well. That was indescribable. Taste wasn’t the appeal really, blood still tasted like coppery blood. It was the feeling that went with it. Ecstasy so intense it was almost agonizing. Every part of him narrowed to blood, Clark’s skin, his fangs slipping into a vein.

Even the ensuing disgust and shame couldn’t do much to dampen the experience.

“Besides needing blood that _can_ be donated freely. And, it’s important to me to know what’s going on with you. Would you tell me about it? If you’re okay with that?” Clark said in a rush. He’d probably been waiting all day to say that.

“What do you want to know?” Bruce focused back on the screen. He knew this was coming but would rather not see the look on Clark’s face when he told him what exactly he had become. It had been hard enough seeing that look on Zatanna when she first told him.

“Everything. What it is, how it happened, the effects- anything you know.” Clark settled cross-legged in the air and paid him rapt attention. The only thing missing was his notebook. Damn reporters.

“Some myths and fairy tales exist because what they’re based on either was or is real. Not vampires. That was pure superstition from the start.”

“So where did they come from?”

“What do you know about vampire lore?”

“As much as I could look up during my lunch break. There’s myths about the undead and blood drinkers all over the world. In Europe they were thought to rise from the dead and cause tuberculosis.”

“People were afraid and superstitions flared. There was a vampire scare a that devolved into a witch hunt. As the story goes, about two or three hundred years ago there was a woman was believed to be a witch, and her partner a vampire. When tuberculosis swept through the area, the townsfolk thought that she was the cause and killed her wife. What they weren’t counting on was that the woman actually was a practitioner of magic, and a good one at that. She wanted vengeance on the town and had a certain sense of irony. She turned them into vampires.”

Clark furrowed his brow. “But I thought you said they didn’t exist.”

“They didn’t. The woman adapted an existing magic and styled it after the myth of vampires. Originally the magic was a parasitic curse that feeds on the, well, there’s different words for it. Life force or magic is close. To a powerful practitioner of magic it isn’t deadly but a normal human will have the life drained out of them if the curse isn’t… satiated.”

“With blood,” Clark finished. “So without blood the magic will kill you.”

“But the intention of the curse isn’t to kill. The host can stay alive by consuming the residual life energy of a living being’s blood. But it has to be intelligent life: something with a soul, or so it has been explained to me. That’s why animals don’t work but you did. It’s not that my body is deriving nutrients from it, it’s that my life force can only be sustained by feeding on the dregs of someone else’s.”

“Bruce…” Clark said, apparently unhappy with his tone. How else could he phrase it?

Ignoring him, Bruce continued. “To protect the host the curse mimics some of the so-called symptoms of a vampire- enhanced strength and speed, aversion to light, heightened senses. Fringe benefits,” he said dryly. “Originally curse was rather rare, until it was evolved by the witch to make it contagious. Then she added some cosmetic traits, like the eyes and pale skin, and released it on the town.”

 In the end, Batman’s undoing was caused by of all things, a sense of dramatic irony. If it hadn’t led to vampires taking countless victims and his personal misery, he might appreciate the form of vengeance.

“Wow, that’s… I don’t know. In any other situation I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Neither would I. Now, out with it.”

“What?”

“You’re dying to ask questions, aren’t you? Let’s get this over with.”

“Of course I have questions! So this isn’t an undead thing?”

“No. I didn’t die.”

Though he tried to hide it, Clark relaxed a little. “Good. Just asking. We’ve seen weirder. Okay, silver stakes?”

“Contrary to popular belief I wasn’t immune to a stake through the heart before.” He said dryly. “Silver is an irritant but not deadly. The only new danger is magic. There’s certain spells that I am now susceptible to.”

Batman had a his very own secret weakness. Maybe this would make Clark feel better about the Kryptonite. The advantage Bruce had was that no one knew his weakness. Despite how many people thought he was a vampire at first, he doubted anyone thought he would turn into one now. It had been a while since anyone had come at him with wooden stakes and holy water, and as long as he was careful, no one would again.

“Can you go in sunlight?”

“I’m more prone to sunburns.”

“Garlic?”

“Yes.”

“Oof, that one’s rough. Do you have a reflection?”

“Unless the mirror is silver-backed.”

“Can you turn into a bat?”

“Not any more than usual.”

“Are you… immortal?”

“No. Not really. I’m a bit more durable than before. Technically if I…” Bruce trailed off, adjusting a wire in his gauntlet. “Drinking an excess of blood will give me more physical benefits such as healing and stamina. But I’m not taking anything more than the minimum to keep me alive.”

“You don’t have to torture yourself for my sake, you know. I can take it.”

“This isn’t up for debate. I won’t use you like that.” The very idea of hurting Clark for his own gain was disgusting enough. “Besides, I’m looking into alternative sources. I’m funding a lab that is trying to manufacture blood from harvested bone marrow. It’s years away from human testing but I think there’s a chance I could adjust it for my… needs.”

Clark smiled. “I told you, didn’t I? I knew you could figure something out given the time.”

“It doesn’t mean anything unless I can get it to work. Until then my options are limited.” Tim could be a big help on that project, but Bruce still wasn’t sure if he would let any of the kids get involved with vampire issues.

“Speaking of, you said just biting won’t turn me. How is it passed on then?”

“Vampirism,” he said distantly, as if reciting from a medical textbook, “is transmitted through the host ingesting the blood of a vampire. At first the body will fight it off like any other disease. Especially if the host suffers significant blood loss, the parasite will eventually overwhelm the immune system and pass on. It binds with the host’s life force and alters their body over the course of a few hours.”

“Jesus. So you… how did this even happen?”

“There were four of them and I lost. My experience with vampire bites was markedly less pleasant than yours apparently was.”

The sides of Bruce’s neck, shoulders, and arms were still a mess of gashes and teeth marks. In an instant Clark was by his side, pushing the collar of his under-suit layer back to the reveal edges of thick white gauze. Belatedly he realized the dressings really needed changing.

“They… I can’t believe they-”

In a puff of air Clark was twenty feet away, hands over his eyes. It wasn’t often that he got so upset he lost control of his heat vision. Dammit, he never should have gotten involved. These were Bruce’s problems, not his.

Sighing, he got out of the computer chair and put a hand on Clark’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Most of them won’t even scar. I’ve had worse,” he said.

“The fact that you’ve had worse isn’t really helping. I don’t like that you got hurt at all,” he grumbled. “I ought to find the jerks.”

“Hey, stop that. I don’t operate through vengeance. And if the blood lab pans out, I can provide the other ones with a way to live without resorting to hurting people.” After all, if he didn’t believe vampires could be peaceful then what was the point?

“You… you’re incredible.”

“Why, exactly?” Bruce asked, confused.

Clark laughed. “Never mind. I just needed a moment to calm down,” he said, uncovering his eyes. “Did it hurt? To change?”

Bruce had been unconscious from blood loss for the latter part of the actual attack and only some memories remained of what happened after. Zatanna shaking him awake and immediately having to restrain him with magic. The searing, dry burn that spread through his body like his flesh was turning to acid and his bones to glass. Something being shoved between his teeth to protect his tongue and muffle his screams. Constantine trying to cast some sort of spell over him, not that there was anything he could do at that point. Bruce was pretty sure he punched him in the face.

“Yes,” he said simply, enduring the flash of pain in Clark’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I had been there to stop it.”

“You know how dangerous it is for you to go up against magic. It wasn’t your fight.” He said like it was obvious.

“Still. The one time you needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your damn fault. This is my problem. I’m the one who has to deal with being a monster, not you.”

“You’re not a monster! This is just magic. Needing blood doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

“This isn’t some dietary change, Clark. I’m a bloodthirsty parasite and that’s an objective fact. This is what I’m going to be for the rest of my life because I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was. I was being reckless. I thought… the main strength of vampires is physical. They mainly fight in close quarters hand to hand. There was only supposed to be one, not four. I still decided I was more suited to take them on than Zatanna or Constantine, and I miscalculated.”

 _I was useless against most of who we were up against,_ he didn’t say, _so I overcompensated by biting off more than I could chew._

He had the feeling Clark picked up on it anyway.

“The other… ones like me that I fought, they weren’t interested in existing peacefully with humans. When they did it, they had already beaten me. It was over. Tactically speaking, turning me didn’t benefit them in any way I could see. Maybe they’re sadists or thought it would be ironic to make Batman a vampire. I don’t know why they did it. It’s not as if I can ask them; they ran when Zatanna and Constantine found me.”

“It doesn’t matter why they did it. No reason they had could possibly be your fault.”

“All I’m saying is that for all we know over time the blood has a corrupting influence. It may only be a matter of time before I become just as depraved.”

“Would you stop trying to convince me that being a vampire makes you evil?”

“Because I need you to understand that I changed. I’m not…”

“Not what?”

 “Sometimes I just don’t get you, Kansas. It’s like you think I can do anything. Why can’t you understand that we’re different? I’m not like you, I’m just a hum…” He looked away. “I’m not Superman, okay? I can’t make everything better like you can.”

“I know you’re not me. You’re better- the best man I’ve ever known. That’s who you would be anywhere, anytime, in any universe no matter the body. That’s why I think- I _know_ you can do it. You snatch victory out of impossible odds like you were born for it. You’ve beat worse things than this.”

“Nothing has been like this! I’m a stranger in my own body. I feel different and look different. I keep biting my tongue with the damn fangs and I can’t have Alfred’s garlic chicken anymore. This body is… and it hurts. It hurts to be near you and other people. Every single day for the rest of my life I’m going to worry about keeping myself in check.”

“Hey, you won’t, alright? I know a few things about holding back every second of the day. If I can do it you certainly can.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because when it comes to sheer force of will you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met! Do you have any idea how terrifying you’d be as a green lantern? I’ve watched you adapt and overcome things that would ruin anyone else. Honestly, it never crossed my mind that you wouldn’t learn to handle this in the long run. If anyone can, it’s you. I believe in you.”

“No, this is all wrong. You aren’t getting it.”

“Then help me understand what the problem is!”

“I’m not good with words like you are. It’s just, I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your blood under your skin.” Gently, he stepped closer and touched under Clark’s jaw, feeling the delicious pulse pick up. His throat tightened at the reminder of what that blood felt like on his tongue. “It’s like this thing rewired my brain. There’s a part of me, right now, that is aching to cut your neck. Your blood was… indescribable. It’s the feeling of it, like every bit of happiness I’ve ever felt hit me at once. I… want this.”

Bruce looked up. Only this close did he notice the inch and a half the other man had on him. Clark was frozen still, staring at him with those dark blue eyes. What was on his face, shock? Disgust?

“I want this.” He repeated, looking away. “And I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could judge the implications. Oh no. This wasn’t the situation he imagined this coming to light. But then, maybe this was the perfect time. Before Bruce would have been able to keep his desires in check no matter what happened. But now after having such a potent taste? If pretending he felt nothing had been difficult before, now it was unbearable. Clark deserved full disclosure of what he was getting into if he was going to agree to any more biting. Under the circumstances he had every right to be disgusted and deny him.

Bruce held no illusions about his chances with Clark. It had always been a pipe dream, but now? With this curse infecting every part of him? He was lucky Clark even bothered to look his way, let alone… do what he had done to keep him alive.

In a way it was cruel. Clark’s kindness, his strong arms and small hitches of breath and the warmth in his eyes seemed to taunt him. This man’s love wasn’t something that could ever be his. Bruce thought he had accepted that a long time ago. Now, when it was infinitely more out of reach than ever before, seeing that love so close was painful. 

During that maddening moment when he first tasted that blood, his control slipped. All he could think was _closer_ and _more_ and _that neck_. Bruce had allowed himself to feel those arms and pretend, for a handful of precious seconds, that this was real. That Clark was holding him so close out of love and not a sick sense of obligation.

That had only compounded the disgust he felt when he snapped out of it. How dare he indulge such a fantasy with Clark after hurting him in such a depraved way? God, he had _bitten_ holes right through that perfect skin.

It was foolish. Juvenile. Ridiculous. There was _no_ reason for holding back to suddenly be so much harder. Clark’s intoxicating, brilliant scent was probably just due to being Kryptonian, the smell was just a mechanism of this curse. And if his heart hammered whenever he thought of that quiet breath and warm skin then that was just a standard Pavlovian response to the remembered intensity of blood drinking.

Clark was a handsome man. That was never anything he denied. There were plenty of people Bruce found attractive and enjoyed having sex with if the opportunity arose. The jump from physical attraction to romantic was a completely different story. The hard truth of it was the only people he could truly be close with were the ones that knew both sides of his life. Romantic partners that fell into that category included essentially only Talia and Selina. Talia was long over, and as for Selina, their relationship had never been conventional or consistent or monogamous.

The idea of Clark to slipping into that territory was… daunting. And impossible. Clark didn’t feel the same way and Bruce wasn’t about to jeopardize his relationship with his best friend over something as trivial as romantic interest.

Now there was no choice. Even if he hadn’t slipped up, it was wrong to keep it from Clark any longer. Time to put that fantasy behind him for good.

“Bruce… do you, are you saying that…” The uncertainty and shock in Clark’s voice stung like knives. He couldn’t handle looking him in the eye. A man as good as him would let him down gently, but Bruce didn’t think he could bear that right now. Couldn’t he just get it over with?

“Do you want this? Want… us?” Clark finished hesitantly.

No, he can’t do this. Bruce snatched his hand back like it burned. Clark caught it in a gently unbreakable grasp.

“Bruce, answer me!”

Fear twisted into anger in his gut. “Fine! I have feelings, okay? For you! A ridiculous crush I never had any right to. Least of all now. Might as well put that out into the open while everything else spirals out of control. Just tell me you can’t stand me so I can get on with what’s left of my pathetic life!”

“Bruce I-”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Now hold on-”

“You don’t have to ever see me again. I can call the plane and be out of here in half an hour.”

“Wait-”

“Just forget about it, okay? I shouldn’t have told you. Just pretend you never heard me.”

“Dammit, B! Let me talk. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“To avoid this conversation, obviously. But in light of what… happened, it seemed rude to not disclose the fact. So there it is. I’m sorry. The only thing I ask is that we continue being able to work together in a professional capacity. The work we do is too important.”

“Hold your horses there. Why are you assuming I’d be mad?”

“Because you have every right to be angry. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional especially considering what we did- what _I_ did to you.”

“But I’m not! I’m… why are you assuming my answer would be no, anyways? That if you were to, hypothetically, want to move our relationship in that direction, I’d be against it?”

“You’re you and I’m me,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wouldn’t do you the indignity of thinking you feel the same way, especially now.”

“Would you just- Bruce, look at me.” He did, reluctantly. If Clark wasn’t still holding his hand he would probably be halfway across the fortress by now. What he saw he didn’t expect. A slow smile was spreading across Clark’s face and into his eyes.

Bruce yanked his hand away and took a step back. “This isn’t a fucking joke,” he snarled. “Don’t you fucking pull shit with me right now, Clark. Not you. Not now.”

“I’m not. This isn’t a joke.”

“Then what’s so damn funny?”

“Nothing, besides the rather bold assumption that I don’t feel the same way.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. Opened his mouth, then furrowed his brow. “No.”

“Yes.” Clark closed the gap between them.

“No, just stop!” Clark obeyed, smile faltering. “It’s not real! You’re just… it’s pity, or something in the magic. Hormones. I can’t- I would rather not indulge the fantasy if it’s only temporary. You might think of me as someone who doesn’t care, but I… not with people that… I don’t do that. Won’t do that. With you.”

“I never said that! Jesus Bruce, I’m not looking for some meaningless quickie here. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then what? You expect me to believe you’ve just been in love with me this whole time?”

“Bruce Wayne, you phenomenal idiot,” Clark said, voice overflowing with affection, “yeah, I do.”

As if that wasn’t enough, Clark was getting closer and closer until his palm was cupping his jaw. Bruce knew what was happening long seconds before it did. Slowly, too slowly, Clark leaned in. Caught between _this isn’t happening_ and _oh god this is happening_ , Bruce froze up.

As far as kisses went it was almost chaste, barely a brush of warm, yet hesitant lips. It didn’t matter. Sparks still shot from Bruce’s heart to his nervous stomach and back again. Without his permission his mouth parted in a stifled gasp approaching a sob.

It was breathtaking and familiar. Terrifying yet natural. He’s known this man in so many ways over so many years that a kiss didn’t seem strange at all. There was a sense of rightness, of “of course”, like it was unbelievable that this was the first time they’d done this. Clark kissed as slow and warm as he’d imagined. His heart was beating like a piston yet when those fingers that could snap his neck with the slightest effort brushed his jaw, something in his chest shifted and fell into place.

Bruce had no idea how long it lasted and didn’t care. Time lost meaning, up until Clark’s cautious tongue brushed the tip of his fang and it hit him like a bucket of ice water. Fuck, he had let himself forget why this was wrong, why it could never work. Sucking in a breath he jerked back but Clark chased his lips.

“Oh, hush,” he murmured before stealing away his breath and thoughts with his mouth, stroking his hair and neck soothingly. This time he thoroughly explored the long, sharp things that still felt alien in Bruce’s mouth until the thought of them no longer made his heart jump.

In the end it was Bruce who pulled away, not because he wanted it to end, but because he was afraid he would collapse if they went much longer. Clark nuzzled into his shoulder and laughed. 

“What?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for three years.”

And instead of saying something charming or intelligent, Bruce said, “Uh, how long?”

Clark leaned back, hands clasped casually around the back of Bruce’s neck, absolutely glowing. “Three years, give or take, after Lois and I divorced. How long was it for you?”

“I’m… not sure. Physically attracted since the beginning, I think. But like this? I don’t know. Years?”

“Why didn’t you bring it up?”

“Because I never thought this could happen between us.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m in the North Pole wearing a million-dollar bat costume. I still live at home with my butler, who also raised me. I’ve had four children who I taught to fight crime in a mask. You’re a reporter from Kansas.”

“You forgot the part where I’m a flying alien refugee.”

“Touché. Well if you have it so figured out, why did it take _you_ so long?”

Clark broke eye contact but didn’t let go. “Well, I realized it around when… you know. Jason. The last thing you needed was to deal with my feelings. You had your own problems back then.”

“Were you waiting for me to get better?”

“I was just… you were in a bad place. It seemed like a bad time.”

“I’ve been unstable since- then. It’s been better recently, but Clark, you need to understand. Losing a child isn’t something you come back from. I’m not ever going to be the person I was before.”

“I know.”

“I’m probably never going back to being human either.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll be okay when I lock myself in the cave for days? When I won’t speak to you? When I’m too busy to be around? When I say something cruel because I’m upset and not thinking?”

“Bruce, you’ve been my best friend for ten years. Do you really think I’m not aware of your faults? And what about you? What if I need to go off world for weeks or even months? What if I flake out on a date because I hear someone in trouble and can’t stay away?”

“The fact that you can’t stay away is what I love about you.”

“Lois couldn’t handle how little I was around. It was one of our biggest problems.”

“I’m a different person than Lois. That won’t bother me. And there will be problems we have that you and her didn’t. What if they’re even bigger and more unmanageable? I don’t know if the damn bat costume tipped you off, but I’m a mess. The only two people I’ve tried to have a serious relationship with are a cat burglar and a murdering daughter of a psychotic eco-terrorist, and even then I couldn’t make it work. I bring people into my life, let them depend on me, then push them away when they really need me. I’m stubborn. I’m arrogant and prideful. On top of that I’m cursed with a vampiric parasite.”

Bruce knew he was being difficult but this was the easiest way to settle things. If Clark was going to leave him for existing problems, he’d rather it happen now.

“All of that might be true. But I’ve been your best friend for years, Bruce. Do you really think I don’t know all of that?”

“And you still think this is a good idea?”

“I care about you. If you feel the same way, will you give me a shot? Give us a shot?”

“You’re serious. You want to start this now? Now? Here? In the middle of this catastrophe?”

“Bruce, be honest. When in the last five years have we _not_ been in the middle of a catastrophe? You keep focusing on all these reasons why we can’t be together. What about the reasons we can?”

“Such as?”

“First off, we care about each other. And second, we get to do this.”

Clark leaned in. His lips were a hot drink in a snowstorm, his body the soft embrace after a day being bruised and broken, his soul the sun.

It was a kiss like coming home.

“You make,” Bruce said, a smile pulling at him for the first time in what seemed like eons, “a compelling argument.”


End file.
